No One Noticed
by SimplyShelbySJL
Summary: No one noticed the bruises on Blair's hips, the red scratch marks on her inner thighs. No one noticed the dark shadow in her eyes. No one noticed the red irritated skin she scrubbed raw in the shower. No one noticed the day Blair Waldorf died. Dark CB


Title: _**No One Noticed**_

Author: Shelby

Summary: No one noticed the bruises on Blair's hips, the red scratch marks on her inner thighs. No one noticed the dark shadow in her eyes. No one noticed the red irritated skin she scrubbed raw in the shower. No one noticed the day Blair Waldorf died. Dark CB

A/N: Warning everyone right now that the subject in this has to do with rape so if you are uncomfortable do not read. It's my take on how terribly wrong things could have gone with Blair and Jack in that room because nobody can deny that he didn't try to rape Lily last season. So this will get very, very dark. You have been warned. Enjoy.

Oh and I know you guys are probably like okay Shelby has got to be the most depressive freak ever, but I'm not even in so much of a dark place right now. My friends call me Emily Dickenson if that says anything… LOL.

P.S. This is a one-shot right now, but if I'm inspired then it could turn into a two-shot in the future.

--

No one noticed the bruises on Blair's hips, the red scratch marks on her inner thighs.

No one noticed the dark shadow in her eyes.

No one noticed the red irritated skin she scrubbed raw in the shower.

No one noticed the day Blair Waldorf _died_.

She watched them though, her _friends_, move on with their life. Nate and Serena had drama due to Little J. But even though they broke up, they were still lucky. Nate didn't cry himself to sleep every night or wake up screaming in the middle of the night. Serena didn't look at herself in the mirror and see a used, cheap, fat, ugly whore. They were always the lucky ones. Blair wasn't.

After a while though, they were irrelevant, all of them, Serena and Nate, her family, and even Dorota. None of them mattered. She didn't feel any emotional attachment to them anymore. She didn't feel anything, but pain and shame.

He was the only one she still watched. Her eyes watched as he slept with girl, after girl, after girl. He'd smirk at her when he was with them. He didn't see her eyes start to water or the way she'd start to hyperventilate if a man even bumped into her. He didn't see any of that. No, he was too busy dealing in his way. He was hurt. Her feelings didn't matter. His did. She was trash. He made sure of that.

--

No one noticed the pot stashed in Blair's bedroom drawer or the constant glazed over look in her eyes.

No one noticed the empty bottles of liquor in her cabinets and the way her voice always slurred.

No one noticed the white powder on the mirror in the room or the way her nostrils turned red.

No one noticed any of it, no one noticed, no one at all.

She wanted to make the dirty feeling go away. She also wanted to forget the name Bass. One had been her pimp while the other was her… client. Only he wasn't a client. She didn't want it. But Chuck told her that she went up there on her own. He was right. She deserved what she got. That was why no one paid attention to her.

The drugs kept her sane. They made her forget. She forgot about the people she used to love, the girl she used to be, and the life she used to lead. But now all she thought about was getting the next hit. The next hit meant she didn't have to acknowledge that her bathroom always smelled of vomit or that she had lost eight pounds in one week. Only the next hit was important.

She didn't go out anymore. The outside was bad. She couldn't have drugs there. So she stayed in with the substances that loved her. She didn't see him anymore. She didn't pay her cell phone bill so Gossip Girl didn't text her anymore about him mending the hurt by sleeping with more women. She didn't see men anymore either, not even on the television that the cable got shut off last week. She didn't see anything and no one saw her.

--

Someone noticed the eviction sign on the door and the absent previous resident, Blair Waldorf.

Someone noticed the left behind box full of numbers, addresses, and names of dealers.

Someone noticed a stack of needles in the cheap motel room with the busted open door.

Someone noticed the sound of muffled cries and running hot water in the bathroom.

Chuck Bass slowly pushed open the bathroom door. His face was met with a fog of steam. He put his hand over his mouth before he coughed. He made no noise, but entered the room in complete, eerie silence. The shower curtain was drawn. He hesitated to pull it open. Instead, he told himself that she wasn't going to be in there. That the man who had said a lost little girl came to report a rape, but left when asked if she was on drugs. No, it wasn't going to be her behind that curtain.

"Hello," he offered awkwardly. His hand pulled back the curtain, but no one stood up inside of it. He frowned and felt relief all at once. She wasn't there. No one was.

That was what he thought until five seconds later when he looked down. But even then, the girl he saw wasn't Blair Waldorf. The girl huddled up on the floor of the shower with her arms wrapped around her body as she rocked back and forth, he didn't recognize at all.

Blair Waldorf wasn't twenty pounds underweight.

Blair Waldorf didn't have bruises and cuts all over her skin.

Blair Waldorf didn't shop off the majority of her hair with a knife.

Blair Waldorf didn't look at him like she thought he may kill her, but that'd be okay.

That wasn't Blair Waldorf, not at all.

--

Chuck turned on his heel as if to leave and never venture back. That was what he wanted to do. He didn't know the girl in the shower. She wasn't Blair. It wasn't possible. Because if it were then he'd have to realize that Jack raped her, no one noticed, he told her she went up there on her own, she became bulimic again, she did meth, and she now sat half-dead in a shower that was so hot it may melt the skin off her brittle bones.

"Walk away. I wouldn't blame you," Blair trembled.

Because no matter how much anyone denied it she still was Blair, but not Blair Waldorf. She was a different person, but her shell remained the same. Well despite the bruises, cuts, ruined hair, and being twenty pounds underweight.

He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice. That was real. There was no denying it. His body slowly turned back around and he faced her. She stared up at him without emotion. His eyes looked to see the red blotchy marks on her skin from the scorching water.

"Blair," Chuck breathed. That was the final nail in his coffin. He was officially dead inside. At least he hoped he was. He didn't want to feel anymore. Not with this. No, if he felt then he'd want to jump off another roof. If he allowed himself no to be dead on the inside, then he'd kill himself for killing Blair Waldorf. It was justice, an eye for an eye.

"St-stop staring at me like that. Go-go away," Blair stuttered. She was shivering, but the water was hot. That meant she was going through withdrawal. She ran out of money and jewelry.

He shut off the water with a slam of his fist and then yanked the towel off the hanger. He was livid, more at himself than anyone. He held out the towel for her, but she didn't take it. Instead, she scooted further into her corner and shook her head.

His exterior softened. "I won't hurt you," Chuck promised. He set down the towel at her feet. She stared at it and then kicked it away. She rocked back and forth, closed her eyes, and mumbled words that ran together under her breath.

"Okay, you don't trust me. I understand, Blair. But we need to get you out of here, okay? I can take you back to a warm and safe place." Chuck slowly picked up the towel and stepped into the shower. She didn't notice him. So he dropped the towel on her shoulders and attempted to lift her up, but she freaked.

"No! No! No! No!" Blair screamed frantically. She shot up and struggled to keep the towel around her. He reached out his hand to help him, but she kicked and scratched at him. He jumped back, completely caught off guard. She cried and ran out of the bathroom. He waited until he heard muffled cries again to enter the bedroom area.

"Blair, I'm just trying to help you," he reasoned as he stepped towards her again. She was in another corner, but with nowhere left to run. Her voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Help?" she mocked. "You want to help me?" Blair shook her head. "No-no you don't. You-you should leave." Her eyes then looked to his pockets, the lining of his wallet stuck out. She connected her eyes with him again. "Un-unless you-you want it?"

"No, this isn't happening. You're not saying that. No," Chuck refused. He then bent down and picked her up. She didn't struggle but rubbed her naked form sensually against him. He put her on the bed and started to dress her in his coat.

"No, you're supposed to take off the clothes," she told him. Her hands reached up and she fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. He watched as she went into a trance of somewhat. Then she shook her head. "I don't kiss on the mouth. That's what Jack told me."

"We're not having sex, Blair," he snapped. She didn't flinch though, but just stared at him with broken eyes. She looked like she had already had everything hurtful thrown at her that it didn't matter anymore. His harsh tone did nothing, but went through dead ears.

He wrapped his jacket around her and buttoned it up. It went down pretty well, but he still wanted her legs covered. He wanted to cover up all of her. It was painful to look at. It would be painful to watch others look at it. He didn't want to take her into civilization where they'd see her, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let her stay where she was now.

Chuck backed up some to take a good look at her. Her curls were everywhere, the bruises remained, and he knew if he pulled up the sleeves he'd see all the bruised needle marks left behind. Still, even in her worst hour though, she was a beautiful disaster. But that was a painful thought so he tried not to think about it.

Their eyes connected. She stared into his with crestfallen and lost chestnut colored orbs. He felt himself stop breathing with how she looked at him. Her lips parted.

"I'll just end back up here. You're too late," Blair stated coldly. There was zero emotion in her voice.

"It's never too late," Chuck rasped. He tried to appear confident in his words as pulled her up. She swayed back towards the bed, but he caught her. In his mind that annoying little voice everyone has told him she might be right, but what did it know.

No, he could fix this.

No, he was going to fix this.

No, he was fixing this.

He picked up her fragile little body and walked out the door without another look back. And while they walked out of the building he thought that for just a moment, he felt her hold him back. But that didn't matter even though he wished it would. Because she wasn't Blair Waldorf anymore and that was who he wanted back. That was whom he'd have to find. But was he too late?

--

No one noticed the dark haired boy carry the broken girl out of the shabby motel.

No one noticed the black stretch limo they drove away in.

No one noticed how his heart broke when he held onto her for dear life inside the limo.

No one noticed the day Chuck Bass _died_.

--

A/N: So yes this was very dark, but I'm very pleased with it. Oh and on a side note when I was writing this last night an anti-meth commercial came on that inspired B in the shower scene. Has anyone in the US seen these commercials I'm talking about? They're creepy, not going to lie.


End file.
